Was Reading Solace Fics And Was Hit With This Concept:

my baby my love my life

i must make him feel pain

just some experimental doodles i’m testing out some different brushes. my least favorite part of being a digital artist is trying to figure out which settings DONT make me want to rip my skin off and crunch on my wrist bones like smarties.

POV: two types of people realizing that they are in fact, fucked.

(*whispers* they're both me)

I wish I could Wright good I would make a fanfic of this

Headcanon that Will is the mom who throws the legendary slipper across the room with deadly accuracy and it scares the shit out of campers. Even his scary boyfriend.

He was raised by a single southern mother, and considering he's caring for the entire camp— the mother inside of him rages.

Even Nico is wary of him when he's in a bad mood.

Getting sent back to the past when he was chased around with a slipper by his mother back in the 30s..

Just because Nico's his boyfriend does NOT mean he escapes the fate of the flip flop. 😬

It would also be a good tactic to get Nico to stand down whenever Will says so. Considering in TSATS Will glares at him when Nico mocks him with Small Bob.

ONE LOOK from Will is enough to have Nico folding. 😭🙏

Just IMAGINE. Nico is getting on Will's nerves form across the infirmary and all Will does is pull out the flip flop and Nico cowers back and stops pushing his buttons.

Will: "Nico. This is the THIRD TIME this week that you've shadow-traveled."

Nico:

Will: "I've told you time and time again— to STOP shadow-traveling because it DRAINS you."

Nico: "Will. You are not the boss of me, I am the GHOST KING. You can't tell me what to—"

Will: *Pulls out flip flop.*

Nico: "Actually on second thought? You are the boss of me. Deepest apologies, amore."

A camper who just wanted to get his broken arm fixed: "What the fuck—"

THIS IS WHY you don't fuck with a healer running on two hours of sleep, two pounds of caffeine, ibuprofen and is on his LAST thread of patience. (And especially wearing flipflops. Watch out for that one.)

OK so A long time ago I read these two solangelo fanfics that were both really good bt lso really sad and now I can't fins them

The first one was them getting in a fight and I think it was Will w ent to sleep on the couch and nico was really upset with that I think it was a happy ending

The second one was A smutty one. When they were doing it will went too far and nico told him to stop and will didn't and after that he felt really bad and called his mom to talk about it and they made up in the end.

If anyone knows what these two fanfics are.pls message me I would love to reread them again.

The first thing Will ever destroys is a songbird. He is four, and screaming, and his mother is twenty-three and exhausted and screaming back, and he wants to tear the world to shreds with his bare hands. And the little feathered thing out the window chirps at the wrong volume at the wrong time, tilting his little head, and Will just thinks deathdeathdeathdeath. And it keels over, and it dies.

The second thing Will ever destroys is immediately after and it is a little thing in the centre of his belly. And it is gone. Others have it, he’s sure, and it is what tethers them to the place between Hades and Heaven and what will float them gently to Elysium when their string withers, but his died with the bird. He felt it drop like a stone echoing deathdeathdeathdeath.

Every other thing he destroys wraps its twisted tethered tendrils around his throat.

———

He learns how to use it. Eventually. There is a moment in Cabin Seven in the dead middle of the night, after a nightmare, when Lee blinks green smoke out of his wide eyes and says, when he recovers: “Never speak of this again.”

And Will, eight, destroyer of so many things Abraham and his sands could not count them, nods. And Lee takes his hands and presses a gentle, squeezing kiss to his knuckles and in two years’ time Will destroys that, too. He holds the fragments of Lee’s skull in his hands and green smoke pools from his palms, from his eyes, from his mouth and his nose, and the grinning Cyclops cannot hold his breath in time and Will thinks deathdeathdeathdeath.

And the songbird was quick and the hole in Will’s belly gets bigger and Lee was slow, slow, slow. And for ever second his brother suffered Will extols it tenforth upon his enemy, and he collapses to his knees, tongue blackening, eye shrinking in its massive socket, throat screaming around sounds Will drags from his lungs. Boils pepper his skin and his bones crack and splinter into his muscle and blood seeps from his pores. And Will watches, and Lee’s blood pools in his hands, and the smoke thickens. And thickens. And thickens. And the Cyclops does not turn to dust when he dies, but a shrivelled, slimy corpse of a bird, a crow, and bile crawls its way up Will’s throat. He turns his head just in time and vomits all over the disintegrated grass and watches it smoke and bubble, devouring everything it touches. Lee’s stained skin smoulders under his palms. He drops him.

Michael watches, wide-eyed, and says: “Oh, my gods.”

And later when they are fitting the fragments of Lee’s skull together and tucking a coin in the spaces between his broken fingers, because the plates forming the roof of his mouth have been torn apart, Michael holds his shoulder. And he breathes, and he says.

“Never speak of this again.”

And Will feels around for that empty spot in his belly, and he rubs his hand over his burned, bruised throat. He imagines Lee’s big hands joining the fray, squeezing.

And he nods.

———

When he destroys Michael and follows Percy off the ruined bridge and then watches as each one of his older siblings is dragged into the broken hotel infirmary and drags sheets over their heads. When he closes their eyes and commits their blame to memory. When he saves Annabeth’s life and comes back to find his youngest older sister dead.

He squeezes his eyes shut and he thinks deathdeathdeathdeath. And the smoke is thin and cooling and scaly, and it slithers through the cracks of the ruined Manhattan pavement and wraps around exposed heels. And it bites, sinking into flesh, and demigods die, shrivelled, diseased, screaming. And they join the chain of souls wrapped around Will’s neck and whisper their echoes into his ears: deathdeathdeathdeath. And when he is the last and only son to walk through the only gilded doors he will ever see there is an electric fan still humming. There is floral wallpaper still up on the walls. There are unmade bunks. There is the smell of sweet hyacinth and the gentle curve of bowstrings.

He squeezes his eyes, sinks to the floor, and thinks deathdeathdeathdeath. And the hyacinth spots and dies, and the dandelions turn to ash. The wallpaper yellows and yellows and crumples in on itself and the wood of guitars rot. And when he wakes up on the creaking floorboards in the morning there is nothing but broken metal frames and a thin layer of soil, of grave dirt, where there were once painted hydrangeas. And he sweeps it out the steps and tells Chiron his cabin was burned to ash by Greek fire. His throat itches and aches, a fraction as much as his palms.

It is renovated by the end of the week.

The walls are sterile-white.

———

When a straw-haired suffering boy stretches into his face and screams I am the son of Apollo, Will squeezes his eyes shut. And he thinks: death.

And Death wraps a hand around his elbow, squeezing, stalling, and says: “Octavian, think of what you’re doing.”

The praetor-elect snarls, and does not. His robes catch on the twisted end of the onager, and his string of Fate is cut. He is launched into the air, screaming, and when his ghost floats back down, it does not join the thousands on Will’s back. Instead it sits on Nico’s shoulders, and Nico takes the weight, breathing through his mouth, and soldiers on. Will watches him with wide eyes.

———

“Never speak of this again,” his brothers warned him.

———

His father told him: you are marked.

———

He hears, endlessly, echoed: deathdeathdeathdeath.

———

“I could use a friend,” he says, and swallows. The dead on his back echo their laughter: friend. Friend. Friend.

“Friend,” Nico echoes.

Will nods. He tries for a smile. It’s thin, but Nico does not comment on it. “Or a friendly face, if that’s easier to swallow.”

“You don’t want a harbinger in your infirmary, Solace.”

And Will cannot help but laugh out loud. And Nico scowls, offended, but Will holds up a hand, palm open.

“I know something about harbingers,” he promises. “You are not by far the worst thing to happen to this camp.”

Nico’s eyes widen. Will snatched his hand back, and there must be something in his face. Because Nico nods, slowly, big eyes blinking.

“Okay.” he says, and swallows. “I have to do something, but I’ll be — back.”

And he is.

———

Nico controls the dead. He cares for them. Like his father he is commanding, but he is fair. He gives the dying the chance to fight, the space to plead; when it is time to collect souls he will take them, gently, and guide them, weeping, on. Death is compassionate. Nico moreso.

Will curls his blackened rotting fists to his sides. The snake wraps up his leg, tongue resting on his scraped knees. It hisses, gently.

Nico places a soft, caring hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, gently. “Some deaths are not preventable. You know that.” He squeezes. “You are a light on this Earth, Solace. She was suffering. She will be granted Elysium, as all the heroes who died here will be.”

Heroes.

Nico searches for his eyes, and smiles. The snake around Will’s ankles hisses, moving close. Will holds his breath.

“Remember all your hands have done, Will.”

Will swallows, and tucks his palms into his pockets.

Death.

Death.

Death.

Death.

“Believe me. I will.”

completely forgot to post these cuties☠️ i wish uni was not so harsh

Please guys I need this

let will solace go batshit with his plague powers in court of the dead bc "no one touches my boyfriend!" 2k25

The Percy Jackson or any other characters that are living I my head rent free need to actually start paying rent now I can't handle this. I'm thinking about them all the time and they don't leave me alone so something needs to be done

If they are going to make me miss out on school work because I was making dumb scenarios in my head they have to do something because I don't want to work at McDonald's

They can't be in my head forever and be freeloaders